The Briefest of Touches
by Cherry Fay
Summary: Delves into their relationship with John as 'cupid' and explores the sexual tension, chemistry and internal struggles of the two touching on Sherlock's jealous traits. Humuor to lighten angst, different POV's from Sherlock, Molly and John, Some sex. Some Molliarty. COMPLETE. If there are any prompts you have a need for fulfilling, just message me and I'll whip something up. CF x
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

Sherlock swept in through the lab doors. Molly inwardly groaned, she was just about to lock up but simultaneously her stomach fluttered every time she saw him, and she had to give it to him, he always knew how to make an entrance; his coat flaring behind him even though there was no breeze, looking as if he owned the place. He kind of does, thought Molly to herself as he came and went as he pleased, used the lab equipment and took whatever body parts he needed for his 'experiments'. God knows what he did with them when he finished...dumped them in the bin to decompose? Poor bin-men thought molly randomly before she snapped out of her thoughts to peek at him over her clipboard.

She judged he was in a bad mood as he didn't even acknowledge her, even in his best moods he would only make idle conversation with her, and even that appeared strained on his part. He simply stormed to the microscopes, as he strode past her so she caught a whiff of his scent, she breathed in deeply, clean soap with a hint of pomegranate, an unusual choice for a man, from his shower gel? But god did it work for him. She scolded herself for being a cliched wreck every time she saw him but she couldn't help it, as she looked at him now nervously, everything from his crisp grey shirt to the expensive looking belt resting on his thin hips tapering to a nice b-

''Molly,''

She snapped out of it and met his eyes sheepishly, he was slouched on the stool, well not slouched, the pose was too graceful for slouch, more reclining on the stool, with his long arms behind his head and legs outstretched leisurely.

''Hmm? I was just...locking up...yes...how may you require my aid?''

How may you require my aid? she thought to herself, who actually says that? inwardly cringing, he always brought out her formality partially because of how well-spoken he himself was.

''Stupid Lestrade just giving me another stupid case.'' He continued- whilst swinging on the stool, briefly reminding her of an irritated child-

''It was clearly the grandmother, knowing her grandson was going to share his inheritance from her that she had worked her whole life for to his slag-of-a-wife, she slipped the crushed peanuts into the sunday roast when she came over to the christmas family dinner. Knowing full well none of the family members would be affected by it apart from the target. She died, according to plan as she choked on her swelled tonsils. 'Well how was it the grandmother? She seems a 'dear' Lestrade stupidly says with his stupid mouth. From the forensics team there were traces of salt found in the suspects handbag, and from further research the grandmother obviously suffers from high blood pressure and cardio vascular problems so she has to completely cut concentrated salt out of her diet, therefore the chances of her 'happening' to have traces of pure salt in her bag from a 'spare packet of mixed nuts' are second to none meaning they were there for the intent of murder of the victim, in this case the wife, who was evidently having an affair with her husbands brother I might add; the family gatherings will be quite awkward from now on I can predict.'' he finished with an amused snort tossing his head back slightly

Molly simply raised her eyebrows, used to him showing off, but secretly she enjoyed it as she was flattered her trusted her as a confidant

''Um...yes, clearly obvious, that.'' she had a stab at sarcasm to appear witty, but it backfired as he looked at her confused.

''Don't try sarcasm, it doesn't lie well with you.'' he stated.

''Oh...kay...well what do you want me to do you f-, uh, do for you?'' wishing he might of missed that, of course he didn't miss that, he never misses anything.

''Lestrade needs the 'paperwork' from the case'' he replied without remarking on the slip, thankfully.

''I've already arranged the body to be dropped off here, so all you need to do is a quick scan, to prove my conclusions were correct.'' he said imperiously as he sat down on a nearby stool and proceeded to examine some slides.

''Okay then.'' she exhaled gently, 'I'll start on it tomorrow, do you want the key to lock up?' she told him exasperatedly as she started to turn away, thinking that Barts should seriously pay her for all the extra work she does and not just take the paycheck from Mycroft every year to cover Sherlock's use of the facility, secretly, Molly noted as Mycroft explicitly stated for Sherlock to be unaware of this arrangement as he would 'blow a fuse' if he ever found out.

''Uh, we need it for tomorrow morning.''

She whipped round snapping out of her thoughts.

''Excuse me?'' her eyebrows rocketing sky high, no longer pleasantly flustered with his presence.

''You heard perfectly.'' he said rudely. At times like these she truly wondered how she found this tool attractive.

''We need it for tomorrow for the press conference, or Lestrade will be all over me', he sniffed.

''I can't just drop everything whenever you need an errand completing, this is my JOB, I have other priorities than you and your escapades!'' she exclaimed annoyed, suddenly proud for voicing herself like the confident woman she was.

"You are right, this _is_ your job, and you do it well, and I would _really_ appreciate this as a favour,'' he remarked with a small smile and a widening of the eyes, the expression she knew was exclusively for getting his own way. Well you've changed your tune she thought to herself, of course she knew she would have to do it anyway but she was irritated that this would eat into her already sparse free time, however, she liked those moments when he had to work that little bit harder to get what he wanted, so she turned away without replying and continued to check her report, hence ignoring him. Of course it worked, he hated being ignored. She heard the creak of the stool as eh leaned forward

"I know it's a bit last-minute." Really, great deduction she thought acidly to herself

''..and I'm sorry if you had plans for tonight." You know full well I don't she scowled

''..because that blouse looks pretty, by the way, is it new?' You would have known as soon as you walked in she thought wryly to herself, she let him carry on with his small talk and compliments for a few minutes before deciding that was enough effort on Sherlock's part, and she did blush a little about the comment on her blouse so she stopped playing hard to get, she was never that stubborn anyway.

''Yes, it is new... and I suppose... if I start now I could be done by half past...'' she said with a small pout.

''Great'' he said with a dazzling beam before turning away back to the microscope and reverting back to his normal stoney expression within a blink of an eye. Molly took that as her cue to leave him alone and she exited the lab to finish off her report, but when she reached the door she glanced over him one more time; he was bent over with one eye closed re-focusing the piece of equipment, and had an odd expression on his face resembling amusement, the corner of his mouth quirked slightly and she had the small suspicion (not for the first time) that he knew that she was obliged to do the work, but he still complimented her, playing along with the charade but for the life of her she could not think why.

That night was not the first of it's kind, nor would it be the last Molly thought as she flopped onto her couch, exhausted, it was 10pm and she nearly dozed off on the bus home. Groaning she walked into the bathroom, wearily undressed and jumped into the shower, as she used the powerful shampoo and conditioner to mask the scent of Barts and the chemical aromas that she felt lingered on her hair, she thought of Sherlock as she usually did. He always pervaded her thoughts, though she knew full well she did not come into his. She smiled ruefully as she massaged her scalp, unrequited love was always the bitterest.

Love. Was it really love? Even Molly herself wasn't sure, what she had with this consulting detective (if anything at all) was hard to describe, she wasn't a stupid woman so she knew nothing would ever really come of it, therefore dismissing it as a childish crush like she always did when her feelings got a little intense. Drying her hair she wrapped herself in her soft white towel and prepared for a relaxing evening watching the episode of Glee she thankfully recorded earlier that day as Sherlock left her thoughts.

Sherlock hailed the nearest cab, gave his address like the other thousand times he'd done it and sat back, on the left hand side as he liked to observe people as he whizzed past. It's a game he played with himself, how much he could find out about the person within those couple of seconds before the cab zoomed past, knowing he'd probably never see them again. It was a tedious game for tedious situations as waiting in a cab.

Dentist...Single...Widowed...Just come out...Single. But it was late and he was tired so not on his best form as he felt the familiar itch behind is eyes, his body trying to tell him to rest, but who has the time to sleep? He noted he had not felt tired at Barts strangely enough, but there was no correlation with that and Molly, though he had to admit she had a funny way of sparking his energy or calming him down. He squirmed uncomfortably at even the slightest notion that he could be emotionally manipulated, the idea was just laughable, he was the manipulator, or as the 'puppet master' as John had referred to him once. He didn't tell John he had liked the term; Sherlock had a power complex that he was well aware of, he just always felt the need to be dominant the one in control.

Casting his mind back to the evenings earlier events Molly's reaction to his flattery was vaguely entertaining, John always had to remind him to not use Molly like that, but it was not really using someone if they got something out of it; and she did, Sherlock was well aware she loved those moments, and hated that she loved those moments. The way her eyes and head tilted to the right with her top lip slightly tucked under the bottom one when she was embarrassed. Yes, very entertaining. And he wasn't lying when he said she had been very helpful, if _he_ had to have done that autopsy admin he might have killed himself from boredom.

He payed the cab silently as he got out, unlocking the door he climbed the stairs without thought. Walking through the door he saw John sitting reading a newspaper, having got in approximately an hour ago judging by the strength of John's cologne lingering in the corridor he noticed.

''Been bothering Molly have you?'' he said without looking up.

''What, no greeting kiss?'' Sherlock mock pouted as he took of his coat and scarf and plonked himself on the nearby chair when he suddenly remembering it was thursday, he inwardly groaned; John let Sherlock have his own way with cases, when it came to domestic issues he kept a tight ship with specific rules such as laundry day on thursday evenings, and 45 minutes maximum in the bathrooms in the morning as they only had the one. Sherlock was highly amused as John would enter the bathroom at 8 and come out of 8.45 not a minute more or a minute less like clockwork everyday. Military influence evidently but this did not even faze Sherlock as it kept the house clean and their schedule efficient but if it was one thing he hated doing, it was laundry, it was just so...normal, and normal equaled tedious in Sherlock's mind

''Don't change the subject, you keep her working odd hours, it's not fair.'' John reprimanded, glancing up over the newspaper.

"What?'' Sherlock cocked his head frowning in puzzlement, ''She's happy to do it.''

''That's the point, you _know _she's happy to do it and you still take advantage.'' said John pointedly at Sherlock. The detective scoffed in his trademark manner.

''Actually it was important so couldn't wait.'' he said as he got up already bored of the direction the conversation was going.

''Careful Sherlock, with all the time you spend there any would think you enjoyed her company.'' John teased.

''Careful John, with all the time you spend with me, anyone would think you 'batted for the other team.'' Sherlock retorted, wiping the smirk off John's face. He retired to his bedroom closing the door behind him subsequently shutting off John's protests. He kicked off his shoes, vaguely noting he hadn't eaten all day as he lied down on the bed with his hands tucked behind his head. He tried to think of why he snapped at John's comment; so what if he liked spending time with Molly, she was one of three people who didn't annoy him, those three being his only friends. He had that rare gnawing feeling that John was right, with a sigh he decided to deal with her later, his mind returning back to the case as Molly left his thoughts.

John always considered himself a patient man, well he'd have to have been to live with such a man as Sherlock, he agreed with Mrs Hudson whenever she said he deserved a national award, but unfortunately no recognition came his way, so for the mean time, he had to deal with Sherlock's moods (and boy were there many) But one thing that came from living with the man was John was better at most people at reading him, right now John watched Sherlock doing his usual business around Molly's lab, taking up her space and generally being a nuisance as John saw it . He had that look of familiarity, one could even say contentment that frequented his face whenever he was with her, but John could not say if it was happiness; Sherlock was only ever truly happy when he was on a case. But it always surprised the ex-military doctor in those rare moments when Sherlock was not being a dick to Molly, he was almost civil towards her, 'civil' he noted, was Sherlock's version of 'nice' so Molly should be quite flattered, as the detective was by nature intolerant of practically everyone and anyone, referring to them as the 'dumb masses' to John's embarrassment on many a social occasion.

However right at that moment his patience was being tried as yet again Molly was desperately trying to remember his name.

''Johnny Waterson, er, Wanton was it sorry?'' she asked apologetically.

''Watson! I mean Watson, John Watson,'' he said quickly recovered himself, it's not really her fault he thought to himself, she hardly ever noticed him when he was with Sherlock, though he couldn't really blame her.

''I'm terrible with names! I'm just going to go get some coffee for Sherlock, do you want some?'' she asked politely.

''It's fine, so am I,'' he joked. '.And please, one sugar, no milk.'' he smiled at her as she exited the lab.

She really was quite a nice girl, he should really get to know her better, but he had a feeling he would have to initiate it as she appeared quite shy. Checking his watch he wondered how long they would be here, Sherlock promised he just came to pick up the papers from the Grandmother case from the other night, but they had been here for over an hour.

The pathologist re-appeared after 5 minutes and walked over to Sherlock first to hand him his coffee, just as he liked it in one of the nicer cups Barts had to offer, he muttered a quick thank you without looking at her, or even turning his head away from the computer screen. This did not settle well with John as he was brought up being told that women were not there just to serve men and even in his military days him and comrades were encouraged to treat with women with respect, obviously being gentlemanly was one of the many faults that Sherlock had. So when Molly approached him and handed him his coffee, in a less nice cup John noted, she probably did it subconsciously he thought so he still grinned and thanked her warmly before taking an appreciative sip. The gesture did not go unnoticed as she smiled and decided to sit next to him to finish some paperwork, and John had to repress a smirk as he reflected on how he still had his charm and it had served him excellently in the past with women, as his mother told him 'The best way to a woman's heart is to treat her like no other man has ever had or ever will.' he fondly remembered, before his dads face flashed in his mind with the crude comment 'It's also the best way to get into a woman's pants.'' before he hastily pushed the memory away.

''So, tell me, how have you not kicked him out of your lab yet?'' he whispered to her in a conspiratorial tone, trying some humour. She chuckled,

''I have an incredibly high tolerance, and he's perfect most of the time, like now.'' she said with a slight upturned corner of the mouth

John was confused as he looked over at the computer station, ''But he's not doing anything...''

''Exactly.''

They both laughed as the awkward shyness with each other was gone. As they gradually got into the flow of conversation she abandoned her papers all together and gave him her full attention. John soon got the impression she was a very bright, funny and nice person. Being nice was seriously underrated he briefly marked,as Molly was a perfect example of this. All too soon they heard the deep clearing of the throat from Sherlock, who was putting his coat on,

''I think we're finished here, let's go.'' he said not looking at anyone in particularly as he strode out of the door leaving it opened expecting John to follow. John made his goodbyes to Molly and followed after him, shutting the door with a slight wave to the woman who was already turning back to her papers as she was once again, alone.

They came back two weeks later to Molly's delight, on an entirely new case. When the pair entered the lab John greeted Molly enthusiastically

''Hey! long time no see, how are you keeping?''

She was just about to answer when Sherlock interjected with;

''She was suffering from a cold four day ago and an allergic reaction to coconut two days ago judging from the skin around her eyes and lips, obvious as she has tried every chocolate bar in the canteen but the bounty brand, perhaps she dislikes the taste or smell however she is not a fussy eater and she uses coconut manicure nail cream, so the conclusion that she just can't eat it.'' He eyed her as if daring her to challenge him. John looked over at her to see if all this was right.

''Correct,'' she replied to John's look. ''I ate a slice of birthday cake someone had made but they didn't tell me it had coconut shavings in, so my throat swelled up to double size but I'm recovering, thanks for asking Sherlock,'' she said flatly.

''I didn't.'' was all he said before he got a text as his phone took over his attention. She and John exchanged looks before setting off into conversation, naturally picking up where they left off last time, their chatter frequently breaking the normally oppressive silence in the lab, much to Sherlock's annoyance as he often shushed them with a scowl, but The Almighty always talked aloud regardless if he wanted to be heard or not Molly liked to point out to John, with John replying he half-jokingly swore that a lot of Sherlock's deduction was dodgy 'guesswork'.

'I heard that,' Sherlock called over and they sniggered childishly like two silly kids.

John knew Molly liked his company as she normally didn't have many people to talk to in her profession, along with being painfully shy socialising didn't come to her naturally but as John had to deal with another socially inept person he didn't seem to mind, in fact he found it endearing. However he knew perfectly she didn't see him as boyfriend material, Sherlock was the apple of her eye John mused slightly wistfully, if he wasn't dating Sarah he would be happy to take her out, but he was a one-woman man. Another reason he kept on such good terms with Molly was it seemed to slightly irk Sherlock, Molly clearly didn't know why, bless her, but John knew better and it was a highly amusing thing to see Sherlock wound up. Sherlock was very possessive and liked to control situations and people and John got the sneaking suspicion he didn't approve of 'his pathologist's' new friendship, especially as he reprimanded them with such vehemence when they laughed a little too loud, so that he came across as plain unpleasant, still Molly treated him with the same politeness she always had even though John himself wanted to strangle him with his scarf. It was one of the moments when Molly was fixing John his usual coffee, that Sherlock seemed to snap. It was after he saw she had put it in one of the nice cups that she normally gave _him._

''Really Molly, are you that transparent? John is clearly involved with another woman but if you're really interested bring him a biscuit, he really likes the chocolate chip cookies, that might just win his heart.'' he said in his cutting sarcastic tone, lips pursed. John cringed in embarrassment,

'Sherlock what the-...apologise!' looking over to Molly but saw she kept a passive face, one eyebrow raised in amusement.

'Um, Sherlock, we're just friends,' she laughed lightly before handing him his own coffee, along with a chocolate eclair that she knew he was particularly partial to. A flicker passed over Sherlock's face before he took the eclair greedily like a child and taking a large mouthful, pausing mid-bite as he realised Molly just owned him. John smiled in satisfaction, Molly was getting much better at standing up to him. Another reason why John liked to make Sherlock jealous over Molly was it might make him realise the situation he had with her, or even understand his hidden thoughts about her that maybe he didn't know he had, and it pained John to see two people who were so attuned to each other being so oblivious to each other at the same time, and he made it his own mission to be their cupid. With that John decided this was the perfect time to make his exit and leave them alone, he made some excuse about dinner with Sarah that Sherlock probably saw through straight away, but thankfully kept his mouth shut. He left the lab with a quick ''See you later guys.''

Sherlock's still annoyed thought Molly, what had she done to deserve that comment? It's not like she was even interested in John, not that it would be any of Sherlock's business, and Molly and John didn't even know each other that well. She decided to ignore and just do the job she was there for. She proceeded to get out her clipboard and handheld audio device, speaking into it,

''Hairline fracture to the side of the skull afflicted by broad rounded weapon, blood on his left shoe is type AB so not his, a struggle prior to death? Slight marks around hands where he was tied up and flakes of metal identified as rust from old chain, mud splatter on left trouser contains traces of fungi, local to the geographical area of the Kent marshes so he went there prior to his dea-''

She startled as she suddenly felt him standing close behind her, peering over her shoulder to look over her write up as she read aloud into the recording device she had in her hand, he had done this many times before but it was always with John in the room so it didn't feel as intimate as it did now. She could feel his cool breath on her collarbone as the area in question rose up in goosebumps. She resisted the urge to turn around so continued,

''However the fungi cells are also local to the North Yorkshire Moors so a second check-over is required to determine the area for sure,'' she moved over to a nearby test tube stand and took the test tube with some dirt swirling around inside. She handed it to Sherlock silently asking his opinion. She noticed their fingers brushed during the handover as she held onto the tube, prolonging the moment of contact before letting go, avoiding his eyes. He took a brief glance at the solution inside, and leant over into the recording device she was speaking into, his lips resting slightly on her thumb as he said softly

''Subtle traces of copper judging by the colour so area is determined as Kent as it has a richer concentration of copper in it's soil.'' before he pressed the button with his long finger creating a slight click as it stopped recording. There was a slight silence when there eyes met, Molly's eyes widened at how grey his eyes were, like mercury she thought breathlessly before she lowered her hand.

''Thank you.''

''Anytime.'' he said and reaching behind her so she was nearly bent back on the lab table as their bodies touched for the briefest of seconds and his head next to her ear, she felt rather than saw him gently inhale as he replaced the test tubes back onto the stand, the moment passed too soon thought Molly dizzily as he withdrew and exited the lab silently, leaving her frozen and frankly, sexually aroused.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Sherlock stared at Molly while she was queuing up for lunch at the morgue's canteen, his eyes narrowed watching her shuffle along reaching out for an apple and chicken mayo sandwich. The last time he had seen her was that night a month ago when they were alone in the lab. For some peculiar reason that memory still remained in his head, filed away in a compartment of his brain that was specially for her, though he did not even intend for there to even _be_ a space for her, the information would just be useless, if anything it would distract him from the important stuff, and she definitely wasn't important. But instead of fighting it he decided to just let the memory sit in his minds eye, how her hair smelt of the lavender shampoo, and her neck of the talcum powder she always used. He subconsciously inhaled and swept into the line directly behind her, pushing in front of another doctor wearing glasses who tried to protest.

"Excuse m-"

"Shut up." was all that detective hissed quietly towering over the weedy man who frankly looked like a mole, Single, clearly and still living with his mother. The intimidation worked as the man backed away with a nonchalance snort, he was way too close to her anyway.

Molly turned around at the noise and saw Sherlock.

"Oh! Hey! I'm sorry, I didn't see you behind me."she beamed brightly. Typical of her, always thinking she was automatically in the wrong, it was her default setting thought Sherlock as he stepped closer so she wouldn't see the man walking away in a huff.

"Eddie Vancoun and Brian Lucas." He said to her without a greeting.

"Uh, there on my list..." she said confused looking down at her clipboard so he could see each individual lash on her cheeks.

"Could you wheel them out again for me?" he asked with a slight crease in his brow and a slight jutting out of the bottom lip.

"Well...the..paperwork's already gone through." she said hesitantly. Right, time for a tactic change.

"You've changed your hair."

"What?" her eyes flickered.

"It's usually parted in the middle." he continued shamelessly.

"Yes...well..." she started before he interrupted, time was of the essence, and he really needed those bodies.

"No, it looks good, it suits you better this way." he complimented her with a crooked smile that he knew would win her over. Honestly, it was too easy. He kept smiling at her as she turned away slightly pink, trying but failing miserably to hide a smile. She was the epitome of the phrase "Read like an open book." He checked his watch and frowning, already behind schedule.

"By the way the guy behind me was 'checking out your ass', as the colloquial phrase would have it." he burst out without thinking as she turned back around.

"I thought you might want to know so you can stay out of his way." he added, yes, he was only looking out for her best interests She didn't know what to say to that last comment apart from an "Uh, thank you." and the proceeded to the lab together, Molly ahead and Sherlock following, slyly looking at the body part in question. From a purely scientific and biological point of view, it was rather a nicely proportional gluteus maximus he mused.

* * * * * * * * * * * *

Molly for the first time in her life wanted Sherlock to hurry and leave already. She had a date at quarter to six and by the pace he was recording observations of Vancoun's body she might not make it, thankfully she had taken the initiative earlier this morning by doing her hair and packing all her clothes and make-up in a bag so there was no need to go home after work. Inwardly praising her foresight she figured she only had an extra five minutes before having to get a move on, Sherlock be damned. But it was kind of her own fault instead of refusing point blank to his request, she let him walk all over her again. Of course she liked the comment about her hair, but as she turned away and saw him in the reflection of the metal canteen checking his watch, the fuzzy feeling immediately left her and he was back to the manipulative jerk. But she had already agreed, and for the fact that he promised he wouldn't be too long. Liar.

Molly shifted from one foot to the other restlessly trying to think of how to leave and what to say without raising any suspicions as to where she was going. She cast her thoughts to Jim. He was the perfect man he was kind, sweet, cute and interested in her; the very antithesis of Sherlock. He was her dream man and that was why she had kept her distance, expecting him to immediately vanish or find out that he was married or something similarly awful, so tonight she was going to get to know him better and put those ridiculous notions aside. The big surprise for her was that he was the one courting her.

Molly was at a loss as to the reason why, men just didn't seem interested in her, especially as she referred to dating as 'courting'. Christ, she sounded like her grandmother. Glancing down at her attire, she looked like her grandmother; a horrible green striped shirt and shapeless black trousers. She itched to change.

Half of her didn't want Sherlock to find out, it was none of his business. The other half did want him to know, to know that another man was interested in her and she was completely over him, even if she wanted to get under him. CHRIST what was wrong with her?! She couldn't be having those thoughts if she were to be involved with someone else. She cleared her throat,

"Got everything you need?" she asked trying to keep her normal cheeriness so he wouldn't suspect. No reply.

"Why don't you go and I'll finish up for you, I'll e-mail you the report, I'm sure you've got a hundred other things to be doing." she smiled, her grin too wide, strained. He straightened and peeled off his latex gloves with a roll of the eyes.

"Where are you going Molly?" he questioned with a raised eyebrow. Busted.

"What?" she tried to act confused.

"Your eyes have flicked to your watch four times in the past twenty minutes, you're wearing your heels with the white bow that you only wear for special occasions, your bag is fuller than it normally is so you've got some clothes in there to change into and of course, the hair." he eyes scanned her body as he talked before tossing the gloves behind him, they landed in the bin without him even glancing at it; his eyes still fixed on hers, head cocked.

"I-I'm just meeting a work colleague. That wasn't a lie, he was a colleague, he worked upstairs.

"Fine don't tell me, I could work it out eventually if I wanted, but I can't be bothered and clearly, you want to be off." he said with a touch of annoyance, which Molly mistook for him hesitantly agreeing to leave.

"Thank you!" she beamed and ushered him out of the door. She clumsily locked up, feeling the excitement build up, all the previous doubts of him going from her mind, she was just overreacting, she did honestly like Jim and he was taking her to the poshest restaurant in town, the one where the price of a glass of champagne was the same as her wage per hour. She prayed he would pay.

"Great! I'll see you later!" she said a little too animated. He simply pivoted on his heel and walked away with a huff, Molly didn't even notice as she was heading for the nearest bathroom to change.

Jim looked...suave, the only word that came to mind as he got up from the table as she walked through the grand glass doors into the restaurant, and pecked her on the cheek. She squirmed slightly, not used to public displays of affection.

"Hey, how are you keeping?" he asked gently as he pulled out her chair. Actually pulled out her chair. She took it with a quiet thank you.

"I'm great, sorry I'm late." she said apologetically, randomly noticing the rhyme. Shyly glancing at him as he sat down she smoothed her pale yellow frock. It was her favourite/ only decent dress; girlishly short in length, three quarter sleeves and a sweetheart neckline trimmed with lace. It made her look years younger, so young in fact she might as well have worn pigtails with it. Noticing his appearance opposite he looked much different than what she saw of him at Barts at lunchtimes. He was in a white shirt and tight chinos and brown loafers, why didn't he look this mouth-watering normally? Molly frowned slightly suddenly noticing their colours complimented each other. Maybe it was a sign she thought with superstition.

He seemed to have guessed that she was scrutinizing him and let out a laugh, his hand cusping the back of his neck.

"This is our first date, special occasion so I'd thought I'd dress up." he said with a sheepish smile.

"No! You look lovely...I mean, nice." she corrected herself, men didn't normally like to be called 'lovely'.

"I might say the same for you, It's nice to get you out of the lab coat." he said, Molly not immediately catching on to the slight double-entendre. She was about to form a reply when a waitress interrupted to ask for their drinks, the motion causing Molly to get a whiff of his cologne, she breathed deeply, it seemed expensive.

"Ugh... two 'Sex on the Beach' cocktails please." he said directly looking into her eyes not even glancing at the girl. She tried to disguise the expression on her face at those simple alluring words coming out of his mouth; it was the dirtiest thing she had ever heard him say as he like her, didn't swear. The waitress nodded, smiling at him, completely ignoring Molly, who noticed with jealousy that she was twice as pretty as herself before she walked away... Bitch.

"Um Jim, I don't really dri-"

"I know, but you looked like you had a tough day. Go on, live a little." he continued playfully seeing her doubtful look.

"Okay, but just the one; I'm a lightweight." she smiled giving in to his charm, in all honesty she liked this confident side of her 'Jim from I.T,' the side that had just ordered her own drink for her, in all honestly, she found it slightly sexy, or maybe she just liked dominant males. For the moment they simply chatted together, drinking one another in until the cocktails came. They quickly made their orders, Molly's eyes widening at how the menu didn't even have prices, as money was a trivial thing to these people and she wondered not for the first how a man of his profession earned this kind of money; he wasn't even the head of his department. Maybe he was born into a rich family, like Sherlock, and was just spending his inheritance.

The waitress was still hovering, obviously trying to flirt until Jim dismissed her with a 'thank you'. It was funny how a girl never really wants a man until another girl is interested in him Molly pondered as she looked at Jim over her glass. The gravitas of this statement struck her as very appropriate to the situation. However what was not appropriate was how his knee slightly brushed between hers. She was not prim, but this was only a first date. She cleared her throat hastily,

"Tell me about work, is it all right?"

"My work's boring, computers yada yada yada. Tell me about yours, sounds much more fun." he said bringing the glass to his lips and taking a gulp, she watched as his adams apple bobbed.

"Fun? That's not what most men think about my job, they're usually repulsed." she said with surprise.

"What? Nonsense, you've been dating the wrong kind of men Molly." Well, he was being very forward this evening, she smiled coyly in return.

"Perhaps." She was gradually getting more comfortable and he brought out her coquettish side.

The night was going swimmingly in Molly's opinion an hour and a half later, despite nearly spilling pasta sauce on her dress and internally cursing herself for not wearing black just in case. She immediately checked herself and found she was slightly tipsy, glancing down on the table there were four empty cocktail glasses, the bright paper umbrellas sprinkled over the tablecloth. She didn't even realise she had drunk that much. Looking over at Jim it seemed he had had about three glasses. That's good Molly thought to herself; it was always a bad sign if your date drinks more alcohol than you; it means they're not enjoying your company...or they're alcoholics. Dismissing the worry she told herself that she didn't go out enough so to enjoy the evening, consequently downing the rest of the drink

The only slightly annoying thing about him was that his phone beeped constantly and she wondered who would be that desperate for his attention, obviously he was itching to check it so after the seventh beep she complied with a nod and an 'It's fine, go ahead." He seemed satisfied with whatever it was that he read and then turned off his phone with an apologetic smile. She immediately was worried she was boring him and stopped mid sentence, her fork halfway to her mouth.

"I'm sorry, I've just realised I've been talking about a random guy called Sherlock for the past half hour." she giggled nervously, not evening remember how he had gotten into her thoughts (yet again). The whole point of this date was to go out with a nice man and forget Sherlock.

"No no no, don't worry, he sounds like... an interesting character." he said with a raised eyebrow.

"Pah, 'interesting'? You could say that, wait until you meet him." she joked.

"Can I? That would be so great, I've heard about him from that John Watson blog, he's getting quite a following." he said with enthusiasm. She wanted to kick herself, her comment wasn't really an invitation. Call it her women's intuition but she wanted to keep the two separate for some reason. However she could hardly say no and it would be nice as he seemed like a fan.

"Sure." she smiled warmly. He leaned back in his chair with a smile and continued to eat his ravioli. They finished around half eight As they got up he helped her with her coat. Out of her peripheral vision Molly saw he hadn't left a tip. Jim noticed her looking at the silver platter with the bill and said,

"A waitress flirting with a guy while he is on a first date, aside from unprofessional, is just plain rude." She wasn't sure if it was the alcohol or not but she wanted to kiss him right there and then.

Jim dropped her off at her address in a cab at quarter past two in the morning. He had taken her to the cinema to see a late night viewing of a horror film after the restaurant to her delight as she was sad the evening was ending so soon. He had asked if she was uncomfortable with the genre but Molly just laughed, she loved horrors and the blood and gore didn't faze her.

Molly couldn't remember much abut the film as the result of the tension between them in the cinema seat. She felt braver in the dark so ever so lightly brushed her foot against his calf when she crossed her legs. He got the hint as in the cab he reached for her hand and the rest of the journey passed in silence. He even walked her to the door of the block of apartments surprising Molly with his gentlemanly behavior, either that or he just didn't wanting her falling flat on her face as she was only just capable of walking in a straight line.

"Wouldn't want anything bad happening to you would we?" he grinned. She looked into his pupils surrounded by irises of dark brown, just like hers. And like the Prince Charming in a fairytale he kissed her hand and wished her goodnight leaving her with the biggest smile she had worn all week as he walked away, hands in pockets.

* * * * * * * * * * * *

John glanced at the clock, 20 minutes until Sarah was due to arrive; it was her birthday and he thought he'd do something different as they usually went out to eat. And apparently 'Chicks dig guys who cook' as he read in one of Sarah's 'Women's Weekly Magazines" often scattered throughout her house. They couldn't go to hers this time because it was too crowded as her extended family was coming over to stay for the weekend. He had hurried around the flat while the pasta was boiling and just cleaned up the mess, generally, well, all of it was Sherlock's mess; his books, papers and empty cups of tea that he would leave lying around on a regular basis. He jumped when he heard the front door open, she's early he thought.

"In here darling!'' he called over his shoulder starting to lay the table.

"Well, I suppose I've been called worse." said an over-familiar drawl.

John whipped round, eyebrows disappearing under his hairline.

"Sherlock! What the hell are you doing here, didn't you get my texts?"

"Of course I did."

"So...you know Sarah's coming over in...fifteen minutes? So you'd better get a move on, I don't want you to still be here when she comes over; she doesn't like you." he said bluntly.

"That's ridiculous, I'm positively charming." he said as John rolled his eyes and continued to lay the table. "In any case I'll be in my room, you won't hear a thing from me."

John paused; that wasn't the issue, it was that Sherlock might hear them...after dinner...

He tried to subtly make Sherlock understand.

"Furthermore," Sherlock continued, "I pay half the rent, you can't kick me out."

"It'a just for the one time- It's a special occasion. And...we want the apartment to ourselves." John coughed. Sherlock was still frowning.

"You know...for later on in the evening..." Still not dawning on him. John sighed, not wanting to waste any more time.

"Activities... of an intimate nature?" he cringed at what he had just said.

"Oh!" his eyes widening. "Next time just say." he said to a peeved John as he buttoned up his coat again.

"Hang on, where will I stay?"

"Well that's why I sent you the text this morning, so you had time to organise something?"

"Argh!" exclaimed Sherlock in frustration. "We both know I have no friends. Lestrade's in Holland on a 'romantic reconciliation trip' with his wife whatever the hell that means, Mrs Hudson is in the countryside for the next fortnight, I'm sure I could break into her flat but one, she would probably kill me and two, I... prefer not to be on my own" he admitted hesitantly. That took John by surprise, he always thought Sherlock enjoyed his own company far more than it was healthy. Sherlock continued trying to cover the embarrassing moment.

"Plus hotels are out of the question, it's not a pleasant night when you know what type of person previously stayed in the bed." he said with distaste.

"Stop being OCD, they clean the rooms Sherlock." John said with increasing frustration glancing at the clock.

"Barely."

"It's only for the one night, grow up."

Sherlock remained silent, sulking.

"Well that's your problem now so stop being difficult, Sarah's right, I mollycoddle you too much." John dropped the hint rather cunningly he thought to himself. He flicked his eyes over to Sherlock and saw that he registered it. Bingo.

The detective pursed his lips and stormed out of the room, muttering an "If I must." as he went. His coat flaring behind him dramatically even though there was no wind. John envied how he could do that. As soon as he heard Sherlocks footsteps padding down the stairs he immediately text Molly to give her the heads-up.

Sherlock on the way to yours staying for the night, don't ask; just go with it and I owe you one.

J :)

He waited for her normally immediate response, expecting a flustered reply, but this time there was none even after a couple of minutes. She must be busy he thought as he headed for his bedroom to change but saw the pasta water bubble over the top of the pan onto the hob surface. Half cursing his own stupidity and fully cursing Sherlock he rushed to clean it up, just as the doorbell rang. Great.

* * * * * * * * * * * *

Sherlock paused outside her blue door after knocking. After 11 seconds he knew she wasn't home, there were no lights anywhere in the house. He stooped down and lifted the plant pot to the right side of the door, and sure enough just as he expected there was a spare key. Molly was so predictable. With that he let himself in, he'd already texted her so it was her fault he had to let himself in. As he flicked on the light he gazed around the front room. Nothing out of the unexpected jumped out at him; she was tidy, not much out on display as it was all tucked into boxes and cheap storage units. It was...comfortable he noted even if it was sparse. The feminine touches such as the vase of pale pink pansies in the middle of the dining table, the delicate lace curtains and the scent of clean soap made it apparent that a woman lived here.

There were no pictures apart from a couple of small frames sitting on a coffee table. He walked over to it and flicked on the table lamp to see the the photo of her as a girl, around the age of six with her father pushing her on a swing. Adjacent to it a picture of a pretty young woman who undoubtedly must have been her mother. Sherlock noted they had the same long lashes and brown tresses. Her eyes looked patient and calm so much like Molly's character but that didn't make sense as Molly didn't even know her; she passed away soon after she was born from an illness.

Sherlock moved on, past her garishly colourful and full DVD display and into her bedroom, he justified himself by the thought that he had already breached her privacy by entering her house, so he might as well explore her bedroom. This room was a juxtaposition of everything in the front room; clothes strewn on the chair, wardrobe door ajar, several pairs of shoes scattered across the carpet. She had undeniably left in a rush, and seemingly grabbed a few clothes, nice ones as they came from the rack in the wardrobe where a few missing hangers lay between her garments and not from the folded pile of her casual clothes. That confirmed his earlier observation of her going out somewhere special. He walked over to the hangers and picked up a tiny yellow material fibre between his forefinger and thumb and raised an eyebrow, he had never seen her in yellow as she was normally clad in meek pastels.

He walked over to her mirror table, remarkably empty of cosmetics for a woman, there was just a small box and a few supermarket lotions, he popped open the lid of one and took a whiff.

Scanning the rest of the room he caught a glimpse of some underwear on top of a chest of drawers; the material scraps were out of her character to say the least. He picked them up and inspected their transparency thinking that totally eludes the point of their function. It looked like she rifled through that particular draw ignoring her normal sensible cotton whites and had chosen something more... risqué. Sherlock laughed at the notion of Molly trying to be sexy as it had never previously occurred to him that other men would see her... like that.

Walking over to her bedside table with the intention of snooping through her reading material, he picked up an impressively thick science journal full of findings. It looked fascinating so he made a mental point to ask her if could borrow it, however what was really fascinating was what she used as the bookmark. It was the paper swan he had out of a sandwich wrapper once when they were in the canteen eating lunch together. He couldn't fathom why she would keep something like that- aside from her massive crush on him. He didn't even make it for her as he recalled being bored and just wanting to show off to someone, even if it was basic origami; and impressed she was, so much so that she kept it. He tutted at people's ridiculous sentiment as he left the room.

* * * * * * * * * * * *

Molly fumbled with the lock and key, the key seemed to have grown. Or the lock had shrunk, either way it took her several minutes longer than normal before she could sort out her hand-eye coordination. She let herself in gently humming and flicked on the light.

"What time do you call this."

She shrieked but it came out more of a slur. She whirled around quickly to face the intruder which turned out to be a very bad idea as she had to sit down for fear of being sick.

"Sher-hic-lock!" she exclaimed hands clasped to her heart. The sight facing her wasn't making any sense therefore she must have passed out all already and now dreaming. Sherlock Holmes. In her flat. At half two in the morning. He was sitting with one leg crossed over the other knee and his fingers steepled together under his tilted chin with eyes closed. She scoffed at his ludicrous 'thinking position'.

"For Christ sake Hooper, you are a mess." Okay, so it wasn't a nice dream she frowned to herself.

"Hou yaven't , I mean, you haven't even see me." she tripped over her words as she started to get over the initial shock.

"I don't have to. Your breaths are almost three times as loud as they normally are. And they're labored. Plus you tripped upon the last step of the stairs. You are not in your normal state. 'The art of listening is often the one that gets neglected' as the scholar Guy Kawasaki would say." with that statement he finally opened his eyes and fixed her with that cat-like stare. She bristled.

"Hey! Thats so unfair, I never get this drunk- hell I don't even drink. Hic!" She objected wanting nothing more than her bed instead of defending her drinking habits.

"Says the drunk woman lying on the couch."

"Don't change the subject, what the hell are you doing in m'flat anyway? Breaking and enterering-... enting- ... ener... entering, yes, breaking and entering's illegal." she closed her eyes, her head spinning.

"I didn't." he smirked.

"You didn't... you didn't what?" she rubbed her sockets with her knuckles.

"Break and enter. I used your spare key. Honestly? Talk about clichéd." he held up her key to the light so it glinted.

"So John finally kicked you out? Good on him... but now... you need somewhere to stay..." she said slowly, her intoxicated mind trying to come up with his reasons for him being here.

"Don't be absurd." he wrinkled his nose. "I'd like to see John even try and kick me out... No, he's got Sarah over for the night and apparently I would just be a-

Clock-blocker? She thought to herself.

-nuisance."

He continued complaining but Molly wasn't really listening as she was trying to keep her eyelids open.

"Molly?"

"Huh? Oh just crash on the couch." she sighed giving in. Sherlock was asking to stay the night. One of her fantasies had come true but she was too sloshed to take advantage. Or even acknowledge the significance of this one-night-only situation.

Instead, the fact that he didn't say thank you was what she registered with mild annoyance. He carried on,

"That's an illogical preposition. Your couch is too small for me. I'll have your bed." he stood up and started walking towards her, though to the pathologist there seemed to be two of him as she was getting double vision.

He bent down and started to untie the straps of her shoes, his fingers brushing her ankle. She giggled and squirmed as it tickled, but he held her legs down, his fingers digging into her calf.

"Interesting choice of shirt colour." he remarked while he worked.

"It's a dress."

"Quite." he said, eyeing the amount of leg exposed dangling over the arm of the coach.

She peered at the top of his head and in a moment of boldness she reached out her hand and stroked his dark mop before admitting much to her horror,

"I love your hair."

He froze as Molly realised it was the most intimate thing she had ever said to him. He responded by holding her wrist and gently placed it back by her side. She felt very ill now and just wanted him to go away.

"It's fine, I'm not derunk, not at all. I can tie my own shoes. Untie them, even."

"Do you need help with your shirt?" he asked innocently.

"_Dress_!" she blurted out, not sure whether to take him seriously. He was being uncharacteristically...nice. Aside from taking her bed. Molly's last thought was how unreal the situation was before passing out, but not before feeling a blanket being draped over her.


	3. Chapter 3

(Molliarty M rating) The 'C' word used people, but only once(!) I promise.

After the initial ordeal of waking up and rinsing the horrid taste from her mouth she remembered how Sherlock was there only a few hours before. When she woke up, he had (of course) left. To double check that she was not in fact, delirious last night she walked into her bedroom and saw the rumpled sheets of her bed. Molly had the sudden urge to lie in it and breathe in his scent knowing that he was there, then shook herself as the thought was creepy. She couldn't quite remember the whole conversation but definitely recalled touching his head, and with mortifying clarity she realised she had told him she liked his hair. The memory caused her to almost choke on her mouthwash.

The next few days there were no signs of John or Sherlock so she spent her now wonderfully free evenings with Jim. The times he couldn't make it (and there were quite a few) she wondered why as he wasn't working. But not being the jealous or suspicious type she simply loved the time that they did spend together. Their next few dates were a lot more casual than the first.

They went to the Park, holding hands like all the countless couples did that Molly had been jealous of. They were the same height, he didn't tower over her so their shoulders brushed when they walked. Moly started to properly take notice of what he wore. It was always casual (shirts and jeans) like any other bloke but she could tell they were of good quality and subtly expensive. She liked that, a man with good taste, and even better taste to not how off his good taste... This was why she took a sneaky peek at the label of his jacket as he put it around her shoulders as she said she was cold. Armani. She gulped and was very aware of the cup of coffee tilting precariously in her right hand; no way could she afford this dry cleaned.

When he went to get hot dogs at the nearest kiosk she absent-mindedly put her hand in his pocket and jumped as she felt his phone. He was always extremely careful about where it was. She glanced at his back as he was queueing and felt a burning curiosity of why he obsessed over it. Before she could register what she was doing her hand had pulled it our and unlocked it with the password she had seen him type in countless times when he forgot she was watching.

Glancing up again she saw he had moved up a few spaces. With shaking fingers she went to his inbox and scrolled down widening her eyes at the sheer number of contacts he had. Mr popular evidently. The name that a vast majority of the texts were addressed to and received from was simply 'Seb'. She looked up again and saw him paying for the hotdogs. Hastily she returned back to the home page and shoved it back in the pocket a few seconds before he turned around and started to walk back. Seb... Seb... Short for Sebastian probably. She wracked her brains trying to remember if he had ever mentioned him before... A brother, best mate? She didn't dare inquire just in case he asked where she had got that name.

He sat back down and looked at her slightly perspiring pace.

"You're so cute." he said out of the blue as he watched her take a tentative bite out of the bun.

"With a very... very... cute nose." he murmured as he punctuated his words with kisses on the tip. She lowered her lashes as he spoke watching the way his lips moved, and pressed her own to his for the first time, partly to distract her from her racing heartbeat. It was pleasant, his warm lips a nice contrast to the cold air until she felt him giggle and she recoiled in embarrassment. She probably ad ketchup on her face and self consciously wiped the back of her hand across her lips.

"Sorry, I just..."

"Why did you stop?" he snickered.

"Why did you laugh?" she frowned in slight indignation.

"No reason, I just thought that I would have to initiate it." he replied calmly before bending his head towards her and resuming their previous actions. She hadn't realised she came across as... frigid. So when his teeth nipped her lips and his tongue required entry she complied, opening her mouth so that their hot breath mingled. She was very aware of others as they passed the bench they were sat on and wondered herself why she wasn't so absorbed in the snog, as this was their first. He sensed this or he himself was also not that engaged, either way he pulled away and laughed a breathy chuckle.

"Suppose this place is too distracting. We should go somewhere quieter." he said, staring around him casually. Taking the hint she offered for them to return to hers as clearly he wasn't going to offer his place. He never did. Molly didn't like to think too deeply into this as there could be a 101 reasons why, instead she teased him about it.

"Are you ashamed of me?"

"What?" he said, eyes crinkling in amusement.

"We never go to yours, you don't talk much about yourself and I haven't met any of your friends or family." she continued in a more serious tone as she digested what she was saying.

"I might say the same for you."

She turned down her lips and nodded. "Touché."

He flung an arm round her neck, simultaneously sliding on his shades. "A pretty girl on my arm and she thinks I'm ashamed her. You're adorable."

"I'm the last person you'd want to hang around with." she smiled bashfully as they continued to walk.

"Trust me sweetheart, it's the other way round." he murmured enigmatically much to her puzzlement as he tickled her chin.

OoOo

Their fourth date things stepped up a notch. They had decided to spend the evening in her flat with a pizza. Molly had kept her look casual; a pink striped blouse and matching lipstick with grey skinny jeans. When she answered the door to see him standing in the rain, hands in pockets, she had the feeling that this was the night.

They didn't speak much as they tucked into their pizza. He was a meticulous eater, tutting when a drop of grease fell on his chin making Molly self conscious about her own eating style. She put down her slice as she wasn't too hungry anyway and watched him eat instead. He licked his lips as he felt her stare making her blush and avert her eyes waiting for him to finish.

"Can I...get you anything else?" she asked.

"No thanks cupcake." he said as he wiped his mouth. As she walked past to go put on the kettle he stood up suddenly and crowded her personal space.

"Oh." she whispered in shock but didn't back away. He put both hands on her bum and pulled her flush against him as she exclaimed in surprise, or lust, she wasn't sure which one. Putting both hands on his chest she felt his warmth and the gentle thudding of his heart.

"On second thoughts, I want something... sweeter." he said, a hint of his irish lilt coming through. She swallowed.

"Dessert? I have cake..." she exhaled heavily as his hands tightened on her bottom. "And trifle..." biting her lips as he nuzzled into her neck, "What about some choh, unggh, chocolate..." she managed to ask before he pushed her down over the arm of the sofa. They collapsed on it together and both started to laugh but Molly couldn't miss how dark his eyes were, or how he pinned her into the cushions with his weight. She started to feel the warmth between her legs and the room was suddenly very hot. He toyed with her collar before yanking the shirt open popping the buttons all the way down and feasting his eyes on her heaving chest, she tried not to grimace as the action jerked her neck.

"Did you dress up for me baby?" he said in a low mocking tone surveying her undergarment. Her mouth was dry so she could only nod, feeling him harden next to her leg.

He traced the black lace of her bra with his index finger and lightly tapped the valley between her breasts. She shivered as the cool air raised goosebumps on her skin and responded by grinding her leg which was between his two into his groin. He murmured in appreciation and his actions became more wild, kisses becoming more teeth and tongue than lips. Molly was surprised, he was always very gentle with her.

He discarded her jeans unceremoniously but pulled his own down to his ankles with much more care. Molly waited patiently even though her arousal wanted him back between her legs. Resuming their previous actions he almost ripped her knickers off, she squirmed as his cold hands grazed her midriff. Quickly he slid a finger from the bottom of her cleft to her clitoris making her almost shout out.

Judging she was wet enough he tugged his Calvin Klein briefs down to join his jeans and paused as he watched her looking at his sex. Molly was delaying and trying to savour the moment as she wanted her first time with him to be slow and gentle but she swallowed as she looked at his angry red cock. Reaching out she wrapped her hand around gulping at it's warmth and hardness. He closed his eyes and grabbed her wrist, gently pumping her hand along his shaft. With his other hand he grabbed her other wrist, nails digging in to her skin and held it up to his mouth before licking the smooth skin. It felt pleasant until after a few minutes she felt the graze of his teeth and she knew he was close. Yanking himself from her grip he breathed heavily as he cooled off. Molly felt awkward as he still held both of her wrists and she wasn't sure of what to do.

Luckily he took charge pulling out a condom from his back pocket and slipping it on himself Positioning his member near Molly's entrance he watched her tense in anticipation. He paused, leaving her desperate for more friction as she let out an indecent groan.

"Say please."

"What?" she looked him straight in the eye searching to see if he was teasing but only found two black holes. He pressed his tip into her folds exerting a huge amount of control for a man, Molly had admired after she had squealed and clenched her thighs around his hips.

"-Please!" she gasped involuntarily. Satisfied he seized a breast and rubbed a thumb over the nipple making her writhe with pleasure, he smirked but the smile did not reach his eyes. For those rare moments when he was not the kind, caring man she had met at work, it unnerved her as she wasn't too sure who this man was, and he was towering over her right now. He held her wrists next to her head and entered her in one long thrust, immediately knocking all thoughts out of her head.

"Jim!" she cried out as a jolt of sensations coursed through her veins.

"What?" he looked at her, with slight frustration as he stilled inside of her, his hot breathe filling her nostrils. "Sorry... whats the matter?" he asked in a more controlled tone.

"Be gentle... it's been a while." her lips were parted as she looked up at him, his hair tickled her lower belly.

He didn't reply as he built up a relenting pace. Rocking her whole body against the sofa she could feel the rough fabric against her back and his chest mashed against her sensitive breasts. She could feel he wasn't massive but with the sheer force of his thrusts he hit deep inside her knocking the breaths out of her small body. She found herself much to her guilt thinking of Sherlock, and imagining another one of her many fantasies, what it would be like if he was between her legs, moving in and out of her as his statuesque face creased in bliss. As her inner muscles clenched at the thought, the actual man between her legs spoke.

"Are you going to come for me honey-pie?

The term of endearment felt strange to the situation, but the context pushed her buttons as just after a couple more thrusts she was gone, hit by the onslaught of the climax.

"That's it...squeeze that cunt, come so hard you won't be able to see." she vaguely heard him say as the throws of pleasure overtook her body and not long after, he joined her. After they both recovered their breath he immediately pulled out, leaving her skin exposed and cold. She quickly wracked her brain to see if she had done anything wrong; she supposed she didn't last as long as she would have liked, but it had indeed been a while. Tucking himself back into his trousers he briefly looked at her naked and scratched form flopped on the sofa before sliding his T shirt over his head on and giving her a chaste kiss, all traces gone of the almost brutal persona she had just been witness to.

"I had a great time, I'd love to stay but I have errands to run." he whispered tenderly, his face inches from hers so he was all she could see.

"Can't they wait?" she said, not meaning to sound upset.

He looked at her incredulously before giving a short "No." before pressing a chaste kiss to her lips.

"That's OK, I had a nice time too." Molly felt extremely uncomfortable as they were back to their pre-sex awkwardness, they stared at each other for a few moments until his blasted phone beeped. Molly wanted to grab it and hurl it at the wall. He checked it quickly, face expressionless and picked up his jacket.

"Again, sorry about this." he grinned sheepishly. "But we're still up for tomorrow right? I'll pop in to the lab around half one, will he be there by then?" he asked enthusiastically, eyes wide, lips parted.

"Yes, I think so." knowing exactly who he was talking about. Her smile felt strained.

"Great." he beamed, he bent down once more and gave her forehead a sharp peck, bumping it with his chin before he let himself out, and leaving her naked on the couch. She picked up the blanket that had been pushed off and covered herself as she suddenly felt cold.

Sherlock found himself once again in Molly's lab perfectly aware that he didn't really have a reason to be. Thankfully, they didn't talk about This was where he liked to 'hang out' or whatever the phrase was that people used. It's not like he wanted to engage in deep conversation because John was great company anyway but he always found his feet carrying him back to this place where the calm was not oppressive like he normally found it, but relaxing, and far away from the hassle of stressful day to day life.

OoOo

The morning earlier had indeed been a stressful morning. He had invited Mrs Hudson up for breakfast as he spotted her from his window putting out her rubbish. John greeted her warmly as she walked in,

"Hey Mrs Hudson! You should have told me you we're coming, I would set another place." he nodded to the table set for two for breakfast.

"Oh no sweetie, don't worry about it, I just bumped into Sherlock and he invited me up, how are you keeping?" she asked smiling.

"Great, just discovering my gift of cooking." he laughed. Sherlock snorted; his bacon left a lot to be desired but Mrs Hudson simply beamed,

"Oh that's great dear, you look so domestic." she smiled widely. John frowned at the last comment, that's not quite what a man wants to hear. He quickly removed his apron. She continued whilst Sherlock busied himself hanging her coat up,

"And it's nice that Sherlock has a partner now to really look after him." she said patting Sherlock's arm affectionately. John's eyes narrowed. Sherlock doesn't have 'partners' and even if he did John was not his partner in the way Mrs Hudson was thinking, but John held his tongue and he simply stared at Sherlock with a look of frustration on his face, however Sherlock didn't seem at all phased by the the landlady's suggestions. He tutted in annoyance at John's expression.

"Labels, labels, labels, who cares what others think John, we _are_ involved." he said to John's utter disbelief. Clearly Sherlock didn't register how that statement may be misconstrued.

"That's the spirit you two!" Mrs Hudson said in delight, clapping her hands together as if her thoughts were confirmed.

"Mrs Hudson! No! I'm with Sar-...I'm not...you know... " he burst out with discomfort. It's not that he was against homosexuals, it was just annoying how two men living together are considered 'gay' in today's society, but he decided to drop the subject as she might think he was 'in denial' of his sexuality.

"How are you getting on with that new case?" she asked gratefully moving off topic. Sherlock was only half listening as he prepared to make a quick exit as approximately in 2.5 seconds John was going to open the cutlery drawer and see the body part he had accidentally left-

"ARGH!" he yelped causing Mrs Hudson to squeal in shock. Spinning around he covered his mouth with he back of his hand in revulsion.

"You! Don't even think about legging it! What the bleeding-... are you crazy?!" he spluttered at Sherlock.

Sherlock flopped back down onto the chair with a sigh, picked up his paper again and waited for the onslaught to ensue.

John slammed the drawer shut as Mrs Hudson was trying to crane her neck to get a peek at the offending item.

"No Mrs Hudson, it's not a pretty sight for a lady such as yourself." He turned back to Sherlock and had another rant.

"How many times do we have to tell you, this is unhygienic and should be done in a lab not our house! This is where we LIVE, you have no resp-... are you even listening to me?" he stopped short.

"One listens with their ears John, not their eyes." and with that he grabbed his coat, bid Mrs Hudson a good morning and exited the room, leaving John smoking at the ears.

OoOo

Molly unlike a lot of people, never yelled. He liked that. It was a quality that he always admired in people as he himself was prone to often violent outbursts.

She also was above average intelligence, of course not his equal, nobody was. But he respected her views and she respected his, never second guessing his judgement. He liked that.

However she was not a complete pushover, standing up to him on a number of occasions when his demands were (he had to admit in retrospect) a little out of the question. But she had always refused gently and provided a sensible alternative. He liked that too.

They were sitting together in the canteen at lunchtime. Molly eating and Sherlock silently drinking coffee. He never liked to eat whilst deep in thought as digestion takes blood from the brain to assist in the process so thinking is slowed. Retreating into his mind, the victim was an interesting one, the real problem being he was-

Crunch.

He glanced at her to see her eating some crisps, licking her fingers clean with every mouthful. He swallowed.

-was vegetarian, so her protein must have come from-

Munch.

It was very distracting as he tried to focus and continued.

-from another source, but the small ellipses on the nail were zinc spots so he took medication-

Munch.

Sherlock bent over to her and snatched the packet from her fingers tossing it across the table where it fell onto the floor, he looked at her bewildered face with a frown and took another sip of his coffee smiling slightly into his coffee at her surprised look.

"Hey!" she complained and walked a little way from the table where the packet had landed. Briefly she bent down to retrieve it and flashed Sherlock a lot of cleavage as she did so. Obliviously of course, she was not that seductive. Deliberately seductive Sherlock corrected himself couldn't help himself take another quick look, they weren't massive, but ample sized and the soft curves-

"Sherlock." she asked as she straightened up.

"Hmm?" he murmured before quickly turning away and going back to his coffee.

"Why don't you get something to eat?"

"Can't." he said curtly. "Busy? Yes. Hungry? No."

"Busy? You're not even doing anything right now."

"I'm thinking. And for the level of thinking that I am doing, it is a task, unlike the masses for which thinking is a stressful pastime and they prefer not to, ergo I am occupied." he pretended to stare past her.

She sat patiently and proceeded to unwrap a yoghurt but sprayed a little onto his sleeve.

"Oh my gosh! Sorry, I'm always so clumsy-" she apologised profusely, immediately reaching over wiping it off with her own sleeve. It rode up over her wrist and before she could quickly pull it down he grabbed her hand and stared at the purple-blue bruises that spread over the inner wrist, round finger indents that mottled her flesh. He took hold of the other and rolled up her sleeve to see similar marks, despite her trying to pull away but he was too strong.

"What happened?" he asked still staring.

"Nuh- nothing, I mean, just a little rough and tumble. I'm fine." she laughed nervously faking nonchalance.

"Of course it's not nothing, who did that to you... was it that bloke you've been seeing?" he growled breathing heavily.

"It's not like that!" she hastily said guessing what he was thinking, "He's sweet on me, not violent at all, well..." she trailed off blushing furiously. "Just drop it, please."

"Don't defend him, If I ever meet him I'll break his-... Oh." he stopped short immediately taking in her unusually mellow mood, her blush, the coy smile, the slightly puffed and red lips and the subtle turning in of the knees. So it was... 'that kind' of roughness. He immediately dropped her hands like they were made of ice, embarrassed at his outburst.

"Well." he cleared his throat uncomfortably. "I'm glad you two... avidly enjoy each others company. Not that it's any of my business."

He observed her turning beetroot as she rolled down her sleeves, affirming him correct with her look of shame.

They continued in silence for the rest of the lunch break, thankfully. Giving Sherlock time to process this new information. He tried to push the image of someone on top of her, kissing her lips, pinning her down as they restrained her in a fit of desire, marking her, branding her. His fists clenched underneath the table.

John walked in with three plastic cups of coffee, Sherlock's; black, two sugars, Molly's; milk, two sugars, his own; milk, no sugar.

As soon as he walked he sensed the tension and even after he handed them their drinks and sat down, he noticed them stealing glances at one another when the other one wasn't looking.

"Nice of you to join us Mr Watson." Sherlock greeted him with a small salute. He sipped his coffee and pulled a face. "God, that's awful." John kept silent; it was £2.50 of 'awful'. Ungrateful bastard.

He briefly asked Molly to make another one, of course, she agreed without complaint. The woman had the patience of a saint John marveled. As she walked back in Sherlock proceeded to make a few comments on her lipstick, John looked on in pity at her painful self-consciousness as he insulted her lip size. The day went on with hushed whispers, Molly seemed reluctant to draw any attention to herself so kept her voice low. It was around 12.15 when a man walked through the lab doors making Molly squeal.

"Jim! Hi! Come in come in." she beckoned him to come closer with excitement. John appraised him as he walked forwards; nothing remarkable, average even. He made a quick prayer that Sherlock would at least be polite.

"Jim, this is Sherlock Holmes." she said with pride and admiration in her voice.

Jim clapped his hands together. "So, _you're _Sherlock Holmes." he said breathily. Oh god, a fan. John could have put his head in his hands; if there was one thing that Sherlock detested it was a fan. Sherlock did not respond, and still stared at the computer screen. John tensed as Jim and Molly continued with the niceties with her describing the relationship as an 'office romance'. John wracked his brains as to why Sherlock was being so hostile aside from Jim being an admirer, Sherlock would normally be unlikable, not just plain rude and ignore them. He had to back off as Jim walked round behind Sherlock and Sherlock gave the briefest of glances before he spoke.

"Gay."

The whole room froze for a split second. John swore he must have misheard.

"What?" Molly said even though the look on her face revealed she heard perfectly.

"Nothing, Um, hey." he addressed JIm for the first time, bringing a huge beam to his face.

The man then caused an almighty crash to ring through the room as he knocked over some equipment, John cringed, the situation could not get any more embarrassing. After that, Jim made his exit and the argument broke loose. It was a step too far when Sherlock commented on her weight as John could see she was close to tears as her voice broke into an almost shout.

"Sherlock-" he was about to reprimand but Molly cut him off with a distressed burst,

"He's not gay! Why do you always have to spoil-... he's not!" she said desperately, trying to convince herself more than anyone.

"With that level of personal grooming. Please." he said with a snort. She glanced at John pleading with her eyes to help. He chirped up in her defense.

"Just because he puts a bit of product in his hair? I put product in my hair!"

Sherlock took this as a cue to deduce the man much to Molly's horror. With a humiliated flickering of the eyes to John she ran out, her ponytail swinging behind to Sherlock's bewilderment. John pinched the bridge of his nose.

"Charming, well done." trying to stay calm, it was all very well when he was like this with strangers but this was too close to home.

"What? I'm just saving her time, isn't that 'kind'?" he said raising his eyebrows at John's unbelieving expression.

"No Sherlock, no. That-. That was not nice." John replied, the phrase 'burning bridges' springing into his mind.

A muscle in Sherlock's jaw twitched, John was unsure if he was resisting a smile or a grimace.

"He had it coming." Sherlock shrugged casually avoiding John's shrewd stare as he absent-mindedly touched his inner wrists.

"How did he have it coming? No one deserves that, more importantly you've hurt Molly." John played the card and watched Sherlock's composure slip slightly in satisfaction. Sherlock spun around on his chair ignoring the question, glancing directly into his eyes.

"No, I'm not sorry because frankly John, she could do much better." he retorted and tightly crumpled the little card with the number in his fist.


	4. Chapter 4

**The last chapter. Thank you so much for all the reviews; the more the merrier. Patience sherlollians, the tension will be relieved soon. M rating ;)**

Molly fidgeted while she waited for Jim in 'The Fox." The whole place was dim and the air dank with the smell of pork scratchings, lager and early evening drunks. Someone accidentally knocked into her back and gave a slurred apology. She just wanted to be left alone, to dwell in misery and spite. But she knew that would help no one and what had to be done, had to be done.

Ridiculous scenarios ran through her head as she prepared how to approach the topic.

"So. You're gay."... No, too blunt.

"By the way you didn't tell me you were gay."... No, too casual.

'Why didn't you tell me you were gay you LYING BASTARD."...No, too... Just no.

She rubbed her eyes in fatigue, not knowing who she hated more at the moment, Sherlock or Jim. Jim won it by an inch. She had shared a personal thing with him, she had shared her home, her bed, her body with a liar. She simply could not believe how she could miss the fact that he was gay, and in the end she had to admit it was a fact. Sherlock wouldn't be wrong however much she hated to admit it; it was his job, his talent, of course Jim's gay.

Feeling a gust of air blow around her ankles she looked up to see Jim opening the door and walking towards her. She smiled as he pecked her cheek even though she wanted to break down.

"Hey, you're early."

"Yes." she said stupidly, her throat was suddenly parched.

He ran a hand through his short hair.

"You OK? You look a bit sick." he commented studying her brow.

"I'm fine. We need to talk." There. She had said it.

A look of mock surprise came onto his face. "What is it?"

"About Sherlock." the name tasted bitter in her mouth.

"Oh yeah, what was with him earl-" he began with a slight smile.

"And what he said." Molly continued cutting him off.

The look of surprise came back onto his face and he replied with curiosity.

"What did he say?"

Molly's mouth opened in amazement.

"You must have heard." Jim simply tilted his head indicating for her to go on. She took a deep breath. The moment of truth.

"He said... he said you were gay." The words tumbled out of her mouth and she watched a flicker of triumphant cross his features much to her confusion, as if he was enjoying a private joke. She reeled back.

"Is it true? If it is then... I mean that's OK if you are, I don't judge but... why did you date me... unless you didn't know you were gay...? I don't understand." she finished, stopping her mouth coming out with any more verbal diarrhea.

His stare was unblinking, his head cocked.

"I'm not gay."

His calmness irked her, and without much logical thought she asked,

"Who's Seb." the question came out more of a statement. The poker face remained but a small twitch of the chin told her she had hit a nerve. His eyes pierced hers.

"You looked. At my phone." his menacing calm chilled her.

"I'm not proud of it." she bristled defensively. "Go one, tell me about him." feigning confidence.

"He's just a friend. Can't you see what Sherlock's doing? Isn't it obvious?"

Molly's vacant expression prompted him to go on.

"He's envious." he grinned.

She averted her eyes and snorted ungracefully. He persisted,

"It's true, doesn't take a genius to work it out. Why else would he say those things?"

"That's ridiculous, why don't I believe you?" she said lowering her voice to a hiss.

"Because you think the sun shines out of his _fucking ass._" he snapped, his voice punctured the hub of chatter in the pub and turned a few heads in their direction, the humour burnt out of his eyes as he bared his teeth. Molly recoiled, suddenly repulsed by the man.

"Believe me Molly, he's not the 'hero' that everyone thinks, a charmer, yes. He's got you wrapped around his little finger. Soon everyone's going to see him as the fraud he really is, he's nothing and you're pathetic." his words cut her like ice.

"You don't even know him. You know what? I think we're finished." she got up and darted past him but he grabbed her lower arm tightly and pulled her face to his.

"I say when we're finished... don't walk away from me." he said looking like a madman.

"Are you alright Miss?" a stranger asked from a nearby table. Jim immediately dropped her arm and she legged it for the door as fast as her feet could carry her.

Three weeks later

Sherlock was silent. Molly was silent. She had been silent for the last fortnight and aside from being inconvenient, it was starting to bug him. She somehow held him partly responsible for the disillusionment of her relationship with 'Jim'. He had silently taken the frosty looks and the cold shoulder to let her get it out of her system so they could go back to normal but after a while he found himself trying to make her smile; he tried jokes, a softer tone and fewer demands but much to his frustration she carried on with her work like a robot. It was harder to get the work done that he needed her to do, flirting was now ineffective, her answers were monosyllabic and the coffees had stopped.

It took an explanation from John to make him understand that finding out your boyfriend was actually gay and then the fact that he was a criminal mastermind was... distressing.

He hadn't thought that she had grown that emotionally attached to him, but of course, Molly was the kind of girl that grew emotionally attached to the most hopeless of cases. He himself being the perfect example. He found her feelings towards him ridiculous, but more so, his own affection for her. They seemed to have increased in potency as it was only now that he accepted how much he missed the old her. The emotions felt strange to him, as it was rare when he got them.

Having enough of the oppressive quiet he walked behind her and gently poked her hip with his fingers. She twitched but didn't look at him. Sherlock tried again this time with both hands, his long fingers digging into her waist making her jump slightly.

"Can I help you?" she asked with a scowl turning her head to him. He didn't answer and did it again, harder. This time she let out an exclamatory sound and properly turned around.

Sherlock feigned shock, "Why Miss Hooper, was that a laugh?"

"No, it was not a laugh, it was a huff." She was breathing heavily, probably from the fact that he had never touched her like that before he thought. Her tone of voice and face would make her appear annoyed but her body language and her biology gave her away; her lips were parted, her body leaned in towards his; she liked it.

They stared at each other in silence for a minute before she asked,

"What do you want from me? If I've said it once I've said it a thousand times, you need the paperwork fist. Standard procedure."

It was time. This had gone on long enough. He breathed deeply before saying,

"I need you. The old you back. This Molly is alien to me." he grimaced, the words almost pained him to say.

A moment hung in the air as Molly digested the words and it seemed there was a crack in her numb exterior as her face crumpled. He was surprised at how those simple sentences had broken her down.

"I haven't had... the best of times recently, and I'm sorry if I've been... distant." she confessed, lowering her eyes. He wanted to tilt her chin up so he could look into those eyes but the barriers he had put up for himself stopped him from reaching out his hand. She carried on, oblivious to his internal struggle.

"My life is a joke. Sometimes I feel like... like..." her voice broke as her eyes turned watery.

"Like your life is spinning out of your control. You're restless, always searching for something but you never find it. In your case; happiness." he finished for her.

She looked up at him with her doe eyes in amazement, unnervingly piercing straight through him.

"Exactly." she whispered.

He had the urge to wipe her eyes with his sleeve but not knowing what the correct action was in a situation like this he resisted the intimate gesture. He knew he should be comforting her, so he slowly raised his arm patted her shoulder in a 'there-there gesture'. She blinked and the spell was gone as she shook his hand off.

"What is it with you!" she snapped taking him by surprise. "You're always so hot and cold. Always." she passionately vocalized.

He couldn't look at her, she would never understand him, no one could. Sometimes he didn't even understand himself, how could he ever possibly make her comprehend what went on in his mind? So all he could do was to remain silent. She seemed to be fighting with her inner thought before calming down and walking right up to him so their bodies touched.

She cupped his face in her hands and he saw she had made a big decision. Before he could automatically pull away she gave him a kiss, feather light onto his cupids bow. He froze and he could almost hear the cogs of his brain whirring in response to her action. Her gaze went right through him like a knife.

"Speak to me Sherlock." her voice cracked.

And for the first time in his life he didn't listen to his thoughts, instead he shut them off and leaned in so their lips touched again, barriers be damned. Her hands clung onto the lapels of his jacket like he was a life raft and he clung onto her upper arms like a drowning man. Too long had he deprived himself of physical contact, she had no idea what she had just unlocked. This was wrong, but it felt right. It felt like her lips were moulded for his, her scent designed for him, her hair for him to touch. His.

Mycroft was a dick John had decided. After their first meeting when he was abducted and taken to a mysterious warehouse, aside from it being like something out of a spy film, the experience left John with a bad taste for the man which Sherlock had whole heartedly encouraged. So after spotting him in the lobby John tried to make a discreet U-turn back down the corridor but-

"Ah, John." the authoritative voice called after him. Bollocks.

John turned around with a grimace showing the an exactly how much he disliked him.

"I need to locate my dearest brother. He never answers my calls or texts-"

Wonder why thought John sarcastically,

"-it's a matter of importance, otherwise I would not have come in person. Unfortunately I do not know his haunts or where to find him, Barts was a hunch. But since you are here, I can assume he is also here?" he raised an eyebrow.

John wrestled with himself, Sherlock would definitely kill him if he brought along his older brother but if Mycroft was here it probably meant there was an issue of national importance, so begrudgingly he beckoned the man to follow behind him as he led him to Molly's lab where he had agreed to meet the detective.

"You owe me, if Sherlock can't be found, it's because he doesn't want to be found. That's something I don't think you understand." Jonh said.

Mycroft responded exasperatedly, "You two are such children, this is for the greater good so you can tell him to stop playing hide and seek."

John did not wait for the man, who lagged behind him a few paces heavily leaning on his umbrella. The rest of the journey passed in silence on John's part even when Mycroft tried to engage him in conversation John was loyal to Sherlock and any enemy of Sherlock's John definitely would not fraternise with.

As John walked nearer to the lab doors he could see a scene through the small window of the door that forced him to stop in his tracks; Molly and Sherlock were locked in a tight embrace, mouth to mouth... kissing each other like it was the end of the world. Finally, John nearly laughed aloud before remembering who was just a few metres behind him and would soon see this bizarre scene as well, obviously Sherlock wouldn't want Mycroft to see him in a such a position, especially now as the detective's hand clasped the pathologist's bum. Hastily whipping round John loudly said,

"Nope. No one there, he's probably gone out for lunch." praying they would disentangle their tongues out of their mouth long enough to hear his warning.

Mycroft stopped in his tracks as well, "That's ridiculous, he doesn't 'go out for lunch'. he doesn't even eat!"

John persisted, "I don't know, how about you come back later?" he said shuffling to block Mycroft's view of the door.

"I'm on a tight schedule, get out of my way man!" Mycroft shoved him aside and opened the door.

John peeked over his shoulder and sighed in relief, they must have heard and exited through the fire escape as the door was banging loudly against the wall, and John smirked at Mycroft's livid expression at his brother's escape.

Giggling like a schoolgirl, Molly's hand in Sherlock's, they legged it out of the fire exit as soon as they heard John'a voice and Mycroft's answering drawl. Sherlock almost dragging her behind him as she struggled to keep up with his big strides.

"Where are we going?" she gasped for breath between fits of laughter, she still had her lab coat on but she didn't care as she had never felt more alive, still exhilarated from the kiss. It was like Sherlock had broken through her iron gates and re-ignited her passion for him.

He also seemed more animated than she had ever seen him in her company with flushed cheeks and sparkling eyes.

"To your place, Mycroft will look for me at Baker Street." he hailed cab.

They kissed for the whole ride, not being able to keep their hands off each other. She opened her mouth and their tongues met prompting a contented sigh from Molly. The situation suddenly overwhelmed her and she pulled back to see Sherlock with lips still puckered and eyes closed. This was fulfilling her every fantasy but she didn't see what he was getting out of it.

"Sherlock." she breathed heavily. "What is going on?"

He understood the question perfectly and leant back, mirroring her position.

"I... I'm not sure. But I like it. I'm not sure why I like it." he said tilting his head up and staring at the roof of the taxi. Molly remained quiet letting him continue.

"I hadn't realised what this feeling was, I've had it countless times before but always wished it away as something annoying, distracting..." he gazed at her lips.

"I shouldn't have kept it bottled up inside, it only resulted in me snapping at you whenever the feeling got too intense; I had no other way to expel it." he swallowed. Molly nodded, almost absolving him. He carried on bitterly,

"And it's like I was waiting for your permission, because if I had made the first move I would have probably done it all wrong and scared you off." he looked out of the window.

She leaned in tilting his head back to hers and gave him another kiss, softer this time.

"You silly man, you have always had my permission, and for the record, nothing you can ever, _ever, _do could scare me off."

"All the time we've wasted because of me, a coward-" he murmured between her lips.

"Hush." she silenced him with her tongue. "We'll just have to make up the lost time."

After they had quickly payed the cabbie Sherlock let them in and in their passion they couldn't make it to the bedroom, instead collapsing on the sofa. She threw off her lab coat into a corner of the room. Reaching for each others clothes they unbuttoned the shirts slowly. She slipped off his to reveal the pale skin, silvery and flawless collarbones. He slipped hers over her cream shoulders and he placed a kiss on the nape of her neck, making her shudder.

Next were the trousers, Sherlock got up and unbuttoned the zip, eyes still focused on hers so that he tripped in his eagerness and performed a short hopping dance causing her to explode into hysterics. He proceeded to undo hers shutting her up as she felt his long fingers tug at the zip. They were left in nothing but their underwear, breathing loudly and appraising each other's bodies. Slowly he sat next to her and cupped her face,

"Are you sure you want to do this? I'm far from perfect, I'm selfish, jealous, arrogant-"

But she vigorously nodded; nothing was going to spoil this moment, she knew all his faults, he knew all of hers. They had nothing to hide from each other and she felt more naked than she currently was under his gaze. He seemed to be in puzzlement at her desire for him. She decided to stop him thinking so much and stood up to remove her knickers. He looked at her sex as she resisted the urge to turn around. She had waited too long for this and she would be damned if her nerves got the better of her.

Molly straddled his lap so now her legs bracketed his and his arms formed a protective cage around her. She could feel his excitement pressing into her inner thigh and she knelt up so he could pull his last piece of clothing over his knees and he kicked it to join the other pieces on the floor. Looking straight into his eyes to see if he was OK she saw only dark pupils blown large with desire. She sank down slowly onto him still not breaking eye contact and saw her own widen in the glassy reflection as he penetrated her.

He was still silent but his shoulders were tight under her hands and his lips were parted as he shifted her further into his lap. They gasped simultaneously and froze for a few moments. She kissed him once more with trembling lips before starting up a slow pace, determined to unravel his dignified stance as he seemed to be holding back. She increased the pace and felt his hands dig into her lower back as she slid up and down his length, he tilted his head back, eyes closed in ecstasy much to her satisfaction. She could feel him, hard and wet sliding in and out of her as his length brushed her clitoris. All the words, looks and brief touches they had shared now being unleashed in wave after wave of pleasure. It wasn't long before she could feel the coil of bliss start to unwind along with her self control. She madly bucked on his lap moaning and writhing and he responded to the sudden frenzy, tilting his hips so his length hit a place deep inside her, hands now grasping her thighs as he helped her pump into him.

"Oh!" was the first vocal exclamation Molly had heard from him as he felt her clench. They came together with breathless gasps and she relaxed into his arms as they came down from their high and collapsed, still entwined to lie on the sofa. Molly closed her eyes and wished it hadn't just been a naughty dream, and she was in fact cradled in the arms of her dream man.

Sherlock looked down at the woman who had no idea what she did to him. She had just given him the most intense emotional experience he had ever felt and instead of scaring the shit out of him he had thrown himself into her, and enjoyed all the pleasure she could give him. It had been way too long since he had let himself go like that and frankly wondered what took him so damn long.

The woman now in question was wriggling out of his tight grasp murmuring something about making some coffee. He released her reluctantly but he was parched. Sherlock watched her walking to the kitchen naked, totally unselfconscious now. As she passed his coat and scarf she bent down so he could see the red marks that he had given her on her ass where his fingers had dug in, and picked them up, placing them over the arm of the sofa, doing up the top button so that the scarf would tuck into it and one end would peek out of the collar, his habit every time he took off his coat, a habit even he himself didn't notice he had.

That small gesture suddenly cleared his head and for that moment he realised she was the Omega to his Alpha, the Yin to his Yang and he knew in that moment that no one would ever see through him, ever comprehend him, ever understand his needs like Molly Hooper.

He got up and followed her into the kitchen, standing behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist as she boiled the kettle.

"What was that for?" she asked smiling, flushing slightly a the intimate gesture, even though they had just made love. The colour should have it's own name, as it was specifically unique to her every time she blushed.

"Nothing." he chuckled even though there were a million and one things he knew he should have said to her. But in that moment while their bodies fit together like a key in a lock, he had the suspicion she knew anyway.

End.


End file.
